


Isn't it Lovely?

by NsuYeula



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Dissociation, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene Compliant, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NsuYeula/pseuds/NsuYeula
Summary: She could never sleep the nights she knew Peter was out on patrol; always leaving her bedroom window slightly ajar, even in the middle of winter – just in case he needed her.And he did come to her, thank god.Clutching at bullet wounds, broken noses or stab wounds, he would collapse in her arms. Sometimes there are no wounds that need fixing, but he simply holds her as tears stream down his face.She never asks what’s happenedShe never pushes—but then she never really needs to. Lying is not in his nature.Whether its cleaning his wounds, holding him in her arms. She tries to kiss the pain away, ease his suffering through gentle touches and releases.





	Isn't it Lovely?

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be a test fic to practice smut for my fanfic One Last Dance, but lots of real-life shit happened and I sorta vented some of them out into this piece.  
This is my first time writing smut, just a heads up. 
> 
> Also, the description of Dissociation is based on my own personal experience with the disorder. Not everyone's experience is the same, this is just how I always explained the condition to the people around me.

Michelle Jones had told Peter Parker that she could cope with the fact he was Spiderman.

And she was.

Just some days were harder than others.

Tonight, was, unfortunately, one of the harder nights.

He was bleeding out on her bedroom floor, clinging to the fabric of her sweatpants as he lets out a sharp cry each time she pushes the needle through his skin.

“I thought you had super strength.” She says, planning a soft kiss behind his ear as she presses the needle through the large gash in his back.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he responds weakly, hissing as she stitches. His fingers dig into her thigh as she works. Her stitch-job isn’t as messy as it used to be, but it is still pretty bad. No matter. With his fast healing, the wound would already be disappearing by the morning. This was all she could really do really.

She could never sleep the nights she knew Peter was out on patrol; always leaving her bedroom window slightly ajar, even in the middle of winter – just in case he needed her.

And he did come to her, thank god.

Clutching at bullet wounds, broken noses or stab wounds, he would collapse in her arms. Sometimes there are no wounds that need fixing, but he simply holds her as tears stream down his face.

She never asks what’s happened

She never pushes—but then she never really needs to. Lying is not in his nature.

Whether its cleaning his wounds, holding him in her arms. She tries to kiss the pain away, ease his suffering through gentle touches and releases.

Hands grab at her arm as Peter began sobbing, cries escaping his lips as he begs for it to stop. Pain shoots through her arm where he clings to her, and she knows she’ll have bruises in the morning, but she doesn’t care.

She can cope with him being Spider-Man.

Just sometimes she wonders if _he _can cope.

-

Ever since the trip to Europe, Peter’s mind had never been the same. He had told her once about the nightmare Beck put him through in Berlin, and later on in London. The phycological abuse and mind games that Mysterio had played on him had left his brain-damaged.

On rough nights, his brain could sometimes suddenly lose the ability to tell what was real.

_Dissociation. That’s what Pepper had told her, following a frantic phone call and a trip upstate the first time Peter dissociated. _

_“It happened to Tony sometimes,” Pepper had told her as they sat at the kitchen table watching Morgan show Peter her collection of crayon drawings._

Peter doesn’t see things, she had learned. That was not how Dissociation worked. He becomes disconnected from the world around him, he had explained. Everything feels off. Wrong. It’s like you’ve walked into a room you have been in a million times. But this time, something has been moved. You don’t know what. Everything just feels wrong. So his brain begins telling him that this is all fake, an illusion, a world created by Mysterio to trick him again.

The episodes vary. Sometimes Peter just lies there, emotionless as he tries to process the world around him despite the disconnect. Other times he lashes out, screaming and shaking – convinced that this is all fake. He hurts himself, trying to wake himself from the ‘illusion’.

Peter’s back was pressed against her bedroom door, hands clawing at his hair as he continued mumbling to himself. “This is not real. It's not real. Peter, it's not real.”

MJ needed to ground him. Bring him back to reality; back out of his head. Fast

“Peter,” she says. “Tell me your full name.”

Peter just shakes his head, continuing to mumble to himself as he changes from grabbing his hair to clawing at the skin on his arm.

“Peter,” She says again, more sternly. “Your full name.”

“Peter. Benjamin. Parker”

“That’s good. Now, where were you born.”

His fingernails were beginning to draw blood but he responds “Queens, New York.”

“What is the name of your cat.”

“Rufus.”

“What colour fur has Rufus got.”

“Tabby, but with a white underbelly and paws.”

Peter is shaking a little less now, knuckles a little less white.

Her next question is soft. “Where did you propose to me.”

“In Central Park, after you fell into the lake while testing my web-shooters.”

“What was my response.”

“You said I was an idiot.” A faint smile forming on Peter’s lips as he remembered that memory. “You pulled me into the pond.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle softly, hand reaching to touch the simple silver band hanging next to her Black Dahlia Necklace.

“I did say yes… eventually”.

-

_MJ had never really been one for marriage. It was just some stupid social construct to give men more power over woman in a legal manner. _

_She had turned around one night, about a week after he’d asked, when they were curled up in his bed watching a murder documentary on his tablet. She hadn’t answered and the subject had been dropped._

_“Yes,” she had said simply, not taking her eyes off the tablet._

_“Yes what?” he’d asked, turning his head to look at her. _

_“I’ll marry you.”_

-

“I dropped the tablet right on my face and broke my nose because I was so shocked and embarrassed” He laughed softly; fingers now pressed steadily against his arm.

-

_Weeks later, he presented her with a simple ring. No jewels, just a band of silver. MJ slipped it onto the chain around her neck, where it hung beside a cracked black dahlia. It was a promise between them. The world didn’t need to know. _

-

Tonight’s episode is less severe, and he lies in her arms hours later, shaken but sure of himself—sure that the world around him, the arms around him, is no illusion.

“It's okay,” she says.

He shakes his head. “No, no it’s not. MJ… I’m so sorry. I’m such a bad person. Why are you even still here? You don’t deserve this, I’m so sorry.”

“Peter,” she says, trying to cut off his rambling.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobs, shaking, “I’m so sorry, MJ.”

“Peter,” she says again, reaching for him. He allows her to touch his face. She can feel him shaking underneath her touch. His eyes were scrunched, and small, inaudible whispers were leaving his lips. Leaning forward, MJ pressed a kiss to his temple as her hand began to gently caress his cheek.

“I’m here,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, a hollow look in his eyes as he touches the bruises forming on her arm.

MJ reaches out and traced Peter’s jawline with her thumb. He looks at her like there was nothing else in that moment. Everything that had happened tonight instantly forgotten. All he could think about is her.

“I need to feel you,” he whispers against her neck as he runs his hand through her hair. He tilts her head downwards and their lips find each other. She breathes him in as she allows herself to be lost in the warmth of the kiss. Gently pulling her into his lap, Peter's hands rise to cup her face; holding her steady as he continues to kiss her. He kisses her like she is his oxygen, that at any moment, she will disappear from his grasp. He hand runs through his hair as she presses her body against his naked chest, letting him know that she was here. That this was real.

He whispers something into her lips, and while she doesn’t quite catch what exactly he is saying; she knows what he is trying to tell her.

She grinds into him and he lets out a small gasp, giving her the opportunity to press her tongue into his mouth. She runs her tongue across his as she moves her hips again. This time earning a groan.

Peter’s hands pull at her hair, trying to pull her closer, deeper into him.

She kisses him back with everything she could muster. Letting him know that she was here; she loved him; that it was going to be okay.

Peter pulls away from her and MJ whispers from the loss of contact. Her hips jerk upwards however when he plants a bruising kiss against her jawline. She can feel his erection against her through his boxers and she is moaning now; lost in the sensation of his lips against her flesh and the growing warmth between her legs.

He bites her jugular, hard. Peter’s lust for MJ growing further out of control with every moan she was admitting. His hands grab at her shirt, almost ripping the fabric with his inhuman strength as he pulls it over her head. He presses his bare chest against her, and he is so warm. She grinds harder against him desperately.

“Bed,” She manages to gasp as he lets go of her skin with an audible pop. The skin was bruising dark and Peter pauses to admire his handwork for a moment before he scoops her up into his arms and begins carrying her to the bed.

Pressing her into the mattress, he climbs on top of her and frantically finds her lips again. His hands slide under her torso to pull her bare chest against his.

“Easy there tiger,” MJ smirks, nipping his bottom lip. He moans and runs his hand down to grab at her ass.

“You are too irresistible though”. He slips his hands underneath her sweatpants and he traces the inside of her thigh with his fingertips. Gasping, MJ tries to retaliate by cupping his cock through the fabric of boxers, but Peter catches her hand before she does and pins it above her head.

“Not this time,” he says with that oh so smug look, dropping a quick peck on her lips as he pulls her underwear aside. She whines as his fingers touch the wetness that was forming, unable to retaliate when her hands were restrained underneath Peter’s grasp. 

“Peter I swear to god…” She begins cursing before she is cut off by his finger entering her. The sudden feeling causes her to moan and buck her hips upwards.

“What was that?” He responds smugly, slowly moving his finger back out before pushing it back in.

“Fuck…. you…Parker” She gasps as he presses deep inside her, his fingers curling to hit her sensitive spot.

“Patience young padawan.”

She would have smacked Peter for making a Star Wars reference while he was fingering her but he still had her hands firmly pinned above her head. She settles with nipping at his collar bone. Laughing, he kisses her softly and MJ’s heart jumps to her throat.

She really did love this man. Bad puns, Superhero shit and all.

When he slips a second finger inside her, MJ is grateful that her mother is working a night shift tonight. Her moaning grew louder as Peter expertly pressed his fingers deep inside her.

“Peter!” She cries as he continues pleasuring her. The warmth of the incoming orgasm was building in her abdomen and she thrashed underneath him, desperate to free her hands as her hips buck into his.

“So tight,” Peter breathes, pressing a searing kiss to her lips as he finally let’s go of her hands to cup her breasts, inserting a third finger as he did so. She knows she isn’t going to last much longer. Her hands claw at his neck as he continues to effortless fuck her with his fingers while his free hand groped her chest. Her whole-body spasms as the comes, her orgasm washing over in waves as she cries into Peter’s neck.

Gently pressing his fingers against her walls, he stokes her as she rides out her orgasm. Kissing the top of her head, he removes himself from her and gently lowers onto the bed as he gets up to go clean his fingers.

When he returns from the bathroom, MJ had wrapped herself in the covers. She groans when she hears the mattress creak underneath Peter’s weight.

“Budge up,” Peter says, attempting to push her girlfriend across the mattress so there was room for him to lie down. When she doesn’t move, he scopes her up in her arms to surprisingly little protest pulls her on top of him

“I was sleeping,” MJ mumbles, nudging Peter’s neck with her nose as she nestles herself against his chest. Peter watches her. “_She looks so beautiful,” _he thinks. Her dark curls were sprawled out across her back and the skin of her torso just viable under the covers. Reaching over, Peter brushes a few stray locks from her cheek, allowing his fingers to linger just for a moment. Moving downwards, he lightly traces the hickey’s forming on her neck before following the chain of her necklace down to where the engagement ring and black dahlia hung, nestled against her breasts. 

He runs the chain between his fingers, sleep slowly claiming him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

MJ smiles.

“You’re beautiful too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out as always to the wonderful AJ_Lenoire who quickly checked over this for me when I was panicking about whether it was going to be good enough to post.
> 
> Also, I am still working on Can I Have This One Last Dance, progress has just been slow due to my health and dealing with real-life stuff.  
And I am also working on another MJ & Peter story, a far more fluffier one which hopefully I will publish soon. 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter is you wanna, its the only piece of social media I have.  
https://twitter.com/NsuYeula


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